Once loved
by Jennifer Jolie
Summary: A whole new movie idea: what if the boss of the Illuminati was Lara's father? And Alex West does come in, but why? A legendary artifact that controls emotion itself... to quote, this is not a love story. This is a story about love.
1. Author's note - you NEED to read this

**This is ESSENTIAL to understand what I'm doing, so bear with it, it won't be too bad, I promise. :  )**  
  
See, I was fed up with people mushing over Lara's dad, and Alex, and I thought I'd give it a, hmm, _different_  concept. So one day during Chinese I started writing this. That was when I realized it'd be impossible to put this in chapters. Nonetheless I have done so, because a) I can't keep updating it as one thing and b) I am a review pig. :  ) Just remember to read it as a whole thing, 'kay? :  )

Oh don't worry she still loves Alex, for all you mushers out there. But nonmushers you will kill me as the bit where he comes in is VERY mushy, and mushers you will kill me as well as they- well, read and find out. :  ) Heh.

This fic is full of half-recent events too – _what if terrorism isn't Islamic_? After all my own Social Studies teacher is and I can't imagine her charging in with an AK-47 ready to gun down the school (we could shut her in the first floor toilet, that works better than a gas grenade). 

To top this off (most likely I'll need to add to it sooner or later though) this fic is about being DIFFERENT, doing things DIFFERENTLY. I hope this will come as a breath of fresh air to most of you; I'm perfectly content to get flames. Just one point I would like to make ridiculously clear: **I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT ANYONE OR ANYTHING. NO INSULTING, HEAR ME? I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT ANYTHING!!! NOT. INSULTING. ANYTHING. **You heard me.****

  
Thank you! (And mind, I don't mind flames but I LOVE REVIEWS!)

Jennifer Jolie

P.S. This was PG-13 because I thought it was a bit strong, and R was like, an overstatement, but don't drag your folks over just to read it, mind. :  ) Being 13 is completely unnecessary. 


	2. Once loved - Part I

I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to force my eyes into those; emotionless, pained; hard, fearing; pleading, possessed. And possessed he was, even with the Apple on the ground just in front of me. And even as victory, triumph, was so near, my trigger finger trembled, though my hand was steady around my Desert Eagle. I could easily have shot anyone else; anyone- a million Natlas, Sophias, Sets even. He backed further into the corner, stumbling, and ending up sitting on his awkwardly angled ankle. My finger steadied.

But I didn't pull the trigger, because I didn't want to win the only game I had ever lost at – love.

The Apple of Discord twinkled innocently. Was it disgust or longing that kept me looking at him as I slowly crushed it under my boot? It was as if the lights had been switched off – the luminous aura surging through the walls dimmed. Unblocked by the Apple's barrier, the rest of the Illuminati promptly began banging on the barred doors without missing a beat. Yet somehow, the room was deathly still.

The crazed epitome of fear slowly faded from his face, to be replaced with a slow but complete look of insanity, fury. But I knew, for his eyes faltered.

"That was what you were after, wasn't it?" I spoke slowly, fighting to keep the trembling and breathlessness out of my voice. "The whole Illuminati- all these years underground with _you_ heading it- has failed, hasn't it?"  
  
He flinched but snapped back, "Salt to the earth and salt to the wound, aren't you?"

_What gave him any rights to be angry? _"And after all these years, you couldn't find the time to tell me _a thing?_" 

"You wouldn't have understood," he said, sotto voce, but surprisingly clearly.

"And I still don't." I folded my arms and leaned against the desk behind me, holstering my Eagle.

He sighed softly. "Lara, everyone wants to change the world. Everyone wants things their way." He too repositioned himself into a more comfortable position. I noisily removed my Desert Eagle and clicked safety off. "We're all so different. Who can truly say who is right?

"Lara, what do you live for in life?" I started slightly, caught completely off guard by the odd question. 

Tightly, I replied, "For the longest time, I was living for _you_. Tomb raiding in your footsteps. Leaving your things where they always were. _I loved you, Daddy._" 

Henshingly Croft seemed to deflate. "Love," he said finally, after a long pause. "We're all living for love, aren't we? 

I remained silent. I wasn't answering questions that were really more fitting for schoolchildren. 

"It was painful, Lara. I won't pretend." To my surprise his great shoulders shook slightly. I noisily clicked safety off.

"Do go on. You were doing so well."  
  
"Lara, I've missed you. Do you know… know what it took me, to poison my wife, to stage my death, to leave my only daughter-"

"And to try to take over the world, like the dastardly diabolical Dr. X?" I shook my head. "How could you just leave me like that? Leave _us_. You do know Winston-" I stopped. "For years I've been searching for you, years after you were pronounced _dead in the bloody field_. And where are you now?

"I hate you!" The world flew from me. I felt like a spoilt child throwing a tantrum for sweets.

Henshingly looked like he had been slapped. Nonetheless, he continued. "I've been watching you, Lara. I have headquarters all over the world. I was so proud of you, but such pain…watching you grow up, alone… Time after time, I'd wished I hadn't gone; or that I'd told you, when you were still a little girl, on me knee, listening to stories…"

_He's wielding compassion as his weapon_. The cleverest always did. And they had always won. _Not this time_.

Henshingly recovered sufficiently. "How has life been since I was dead?"

Anger welled up from deep inside me again, but I fought it down. "Daddy, you've used the talismans to possess people left and right; the leaders of the world yesterday are terrorists today. After all, you do know its history, its nature. Whole nations are at war, soon to be nucleic, and I'm not talking about the football freaks. Not to mention destroying them didn't help in the slightest. And you ask me how life's been?"

Henshingly shrugged it all off. "But how has your life been? I don't have security cameras in tombs." His eyes twinkled. I had the urge to shoot him again but persisted.

I tried to control myself further. Finally I settled for holstering my Desert Eagle and folding my arms. It was pointless to torture my wrists further. "I found the talisman, the _original_ Talisman of Eris in Greece – save the gritty details for later, shall we. I took it back home, thinking it worthless… less than a week later the Illuminati broke into my house." I took a deep steadying breath. "It was too much for Winston- he suffered a heart attack. He… he passed away three days later." 

                                                                        ~*~

A dark shape, moving slowly to the bedraggled lump on the ground stealthily, and purposefully. The floor seemed to gyrate with his every step. Shadows spun themselves around the seemingly endless corridor, as the wall seemed to pulsate with the force of doom. _He musn't reach it! He musn't reach _him! Somehow the words etched in my mind, drawing closer every second.

The shape seemed more solid, more humanlike as _He_ approached. The lump trembled. As _He_ drew ever nearer, I could feel his rhythmic breathing, sucking in and out slowly. The walls quivered. The air turned colder, more stifling with every breath. And suddenly the shape pounced, air filling with horrible, strangled yells as the black sheets seemed to slither off the lump, one by one. Twisted, charred remains spasmed, blending slowly into _Him_, bearing now a nightmarish, all-too-familiar face…

_NO!_

The walls, dripping with ink, closed in on the figures with balletic grace, shrouding everything in the darkness; it was whole. But the darkness could not mask the howling, the jarring crunch of bone, the fleshy whispering of tearing muscles…

Abruptly my view swung upwards, like that of surfacing water. This time the scene was of a fuzzy, pearly white backdrop, with misty, cloudlike wisps floating languidly around.

Hey, that's all I've got now. Sorry. Please review! 


	3. Once loved - Part II

Hi all. *blows kisses to my amazing audience of five* Thanks guys. I really appreciate the reviews.

OK, somehow in the midst of my big nasty exams I churned this out. Once again this is not meant to be read in chapter form!!!! :  ) Also I've just realized what I've written on paper of this isn't as long as I thought it was. Of course, I haven't finished it, but there you are. I need to rewrite the next bit though so it might be a while more. Alex will show up again after this. I apologize for any insults indirectly dealt out **BUT ONCE AGAIN I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT.** OK? :  )

Good. Now start reading and reviewing. :  )

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

This time the scene was of a fuzzy, pearly white backdrop, with misty, cloudlike wisps floating languidly around. It was comforting; perhaps I was swimming in chicken soup, for all I knew. I actually grinned when I realized how very much like water it all was – the same lightness and mobility. Strangely I was wearing something of a white bodysuit.

I began to swim towards the pinprick of light I saw at the farthest end of the haze.

As I turned somersaults, giggling, I wondered faintly why there was so _little_ light. Why was there this confusing mess of fog? What was blocking the light?

A shadow, only a shadow.

I suddenly realized that I was no longer steering. The clouds, turning gray now, were propelling me along to the light, the one, true light…

And the shadow obstructing my path. The clouds were angry gray now. Faster and faster they swirled, suddenly unleashing the strength of a storm. The shadow seemed to be calling the very blackest of the clouds to it now – they stretched and then merged with the shadow, causing it to swell. The light was hardly visible now.

Behind the shadow I still saw a glow.

Still I zoomed to meet my shadows. All the clouds were filthy black, and I realized with fresh shock that my suit was slowly darkening to a sketchy gray. The shadow was right in front of me now. I had to face it.

And then… the shadow turned around. And ever so slowly, as it did so, it shrank, into the silhouette of a man; a very familiar face-

I gasped and immediately ran to greet him. It was him, after these months of praying, hoping - But one faithful little diamond-shaped cloud suddenly flew into his hands, twisting itself. And now I knew, knew why I was staring down the long corridor, for I stared down it once more-

Only this time, it was the barrel of a gun.

                                                                        ~*~

I shrieked and immediately jerked awake. "Daddy!" I screamed, desperately tearing my vision from one corner of my enormous, dark bedroom to another. "Daddy?" I started to cry, hot tears causing the dark to gyrate as before… Terrified, I threw the bedclothes over my head, screaming and crying at the same time. The sheets were crimson, like blood.

The door burst open. I shrieked again. It was back. It was back, and this time it would claim me-

"Who's there?" A low, gravelly voice suddenly rasped. "Show yourself, I'm armed!" The lights flicked on. I peeked out from under my sheets and inexorably began to laugh, for there stood Winston, barefoot and in his nightcap with the little puff ball on it. Best of all, he was holding an ancient, rickety shotgun the wrong way around, and in the position that suggested he was ready to club my attacker rather than shoot them. He didn't glance my way but threw open my wardrobe and jabbed his shotgun in. "Are _you_ the culprit?" he snarled to that lacy white dress I hated the most, with all the ferocity of a pussycat. Apparently satisfied with its innocence, he trotted over to the fireplace. He tossed the artificial flowers out of my vase and poked his shotgun into that instead. "Are _you_ the culprit?" he asked. After a few second he didn't seem to have enough proof; thus, he stuck the flowers back in and continued his little prowl. "Aha!" Winston marched over to my cupboard. He yanked it open, and my great fuzzy teddy bear fell out. He jabbed the shotgun somewhere around its ribs. "Are _you_ the culprit?" he panted, sounding thoroughly out of breath.

  
It was too much for me. I was laughing so hard that tears were running down my cheeks. Finally Winston put aside the bear and came to me.

"Now, are _you_ the culprit, young lady?" I only laughed. "Back to bed for you, I think." He tucked the covers up to my chin (I pushed them down again when he turned away). Then he turned on the small table lamp, and this time, when the lights were out, the darkness seemed friendly again. The last thing I remembered was the stooped figure with the jiggling puff ball hat closing the door behind him.

                                                            ~*~

I found myself blinking back tears as I recalled the fond and fatal memory. Only the incessant banging of the Illuminati brought me back down.

Father seemed genuinely taken aback this time. "Winston… I'm so sorry," he murmured.

We just looked at each other as the doors pounded, beating a staccato rhythm to the angry shouts. My fingers began to itch for my guns again.

Finally Henshingly broke the silence. "What about Mr. West?"

I choked. _Oh joy_. "How do you know-" I stopped myself. That was the obvious. And _that_ was a part of me I was more than willing to forget about.

"So?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "We broke up," I intoned listlessly.

                                                            ~*~

July 15th

Alex West stood by the window, gazing into the murky, dark gray late afternoon. His right arm tightened protectively around Lara, offering physical support and inner strength.

Lara couldn't feel a thing.

"Lara, can't we forget about the past?" he spoke up. "It was my fault, I should have said so long ago." Lara opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. "Why can't we just put this pride, these guessing games aside? It's not worth losing this… for that…" he trailed off, unsure of what else to say. "Lara, I-"

"Oh sure," she shot back angrily. "If you would only stop _stealing_ things from me this might actually work out." Her tone softened noticeably. "Look, Alex, it didn't work in the beginning, it didn't work after that. There's no way it's going to work out now.

"I don't want to get hurt again," she finished, her voice almost a whisper.

"I'm sorry," murmured Alex. He pulled her closer and she began to struggle, so he released his grip slightly. "But I-"

"There you go again. Weren't we supposed to forget about the past?" Lara swallowed, trying to control her temper. "Alex, if you wanted money you should have asked," she said, softly. "I wouldn't have minded any amount. There was a time I'd give anything, _everything_… just for you. But I guess that's all over now." Lara pulled away, crossed the room and sat down on the bed.

Alex didn't speak. Instead, he carefully sat down next to her, brushing his fingers gently through her hair, which was limp and down for once. A closer look at her revealed traces of teardrops still glinting, dried, on her face. 

For a long time they sat like that, neither able to make a sound. So many thoughts spun before Alex's eyes: Lara's smile the first time they'd met, their first kiss, the way her eyes seemed to light up whenever she spoke to him. Then, her face in the newspaper when he'd first stolen her prayer wheels; the single tear falling, the only evidence of real hurt and betrayal; and the sound of her voice that last, fateful telephone call.

It was so hard. It was so, so hard.

*

Crying didn't solve anyone's problems. Crying couldn't do a thing. Crying wouldn't change the future. Yet crying was irresistible.

Right now, all she wanted to do was throw herself into a dark, neutral corner, just cry it all out and forget everything. All her life Lara had fought against such situations – avoided love. And yet, here she stood; falling hard into the pits of overwhelming emotion.

She'd give anything to erase the past, anything to just forgive those feelings of pride; to swallow what her life had pointed her to and just embrace the future. To hold Alex again and feel his arms caressing her, holding her with that sense of protection her weapons just couldn't provide her with.

Oh, she hated Fate. The one man she hated, could never forgive, just had to be the one she somehow couldn't do without, and this she could not explain with words alone. Alex, in all his shortcomings, was Alex.

_Sometimes it's wrong to say goodbye_, she thought.

Still there was always just one step or other between them. Perhaps it was the force that made flying leave touch the ground, the force that made clouds form and rain in a clear blue sky, the force that destroyed rainbows and the force that stole dreams.

Lara let herself give in to her tears. Sometimes you just couldn't win.

There had always been an unspoken intimacy between them. The way they felt each other's pain, emotions. It was not that way now. Neither could understand anything. It seemed a lost, losing battle.

There was a slow creaking of springs next to her. Lara looked up, but Alex was already closing the door.

*

Alex climbed down the majestic stairs in Croft Manor, hardly seeing them. All he saw was a single scene playing itself silently through his mind – Lara throwing herself on her bed, sobbing wildly into her pillow as if her heart was breaking into a million pieces. The door sliding shut. Someone would then turn the volume up – through the solid oak, he would hear crying through the door, and her voice, calling his name over and over. He got into his car but did not drive. He did not cry. But in this world, there is a limbo of grief, regret, pain and helplessness that is far beyond tears.

The fifteenth is never a good day.

                                                                        ~*~

A resounding crunch brought me back to my senses, but my mind was still far away.

With Alex. Somewhere far, far away… I missed him so much. It was one thing to part with someone you love in death. It is another to be a simple telephone call away. Not that I hadn't tried. His mother had picked up the phone and told me that Alex was somewhere in Egypt. I hadn't heard from him since the day he left.

"Love. It's all about love. We fight and kill for love – of friends, family, money, power."

"Then how do you explain hate?"  
  
"There is simple no such thing. It is like temperature, Lara. Cold only means something does not possess heat. Hate means something does not possess love." I was silent again. I could hardly believe what I had just heard. Yet somehow, some of it made sense. Almost. He was a raving lunatic as far as I was concerned.

Then why wasn't he dead? My right holster seemed awfully weighty all of a sudden.


	4. Once loved Part III

**Author's note:** Sorry, I was busy updating Lucky Lara and Fond and Fatal and all that. I have realized I only have an audience of 3. (._.,) No matter. You guys are the best. :  ) Thanks for the support.

My prelims of the big nasty exams are over, thank goodness. Still, the real things are in October, _gulp_. 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but the storyline. Stephanie Sun is still very much alive. I'm sorry to the fans out there, but after listening to "We will get there" about a million times and doing the Fundance nearly every day I just HAD to take it out on someone. And I like Dick Lee for too much to be so very cruel.

Some bits are a bit nauseating. That's a warning.

**I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT ANYTHING OR ANYONE.**

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"Tell me then," I replied, "What exactly do you love so very much that you just had to bomb half the world?" 

"_I_ didn't bomb the world."

"No, you just screwed up everyone's mind so they did it for you. And you didn't answer my original question either."

He stared pointedly at me. "I thought it was blatantly obvious."

I raised an eyebrow. He let out a short bark of laughter.

"I am a raving lunatic, Lara." Chills immediately drenched my spine. It was as if he had read my mind. 

Had he? 

I was aware that my knees were turning to jelly on me but I ignored them, taking a few steps back and sitting on his desk, conveniently scratching the polished mahogany. "That still doesn't give you an excuse."

August 7th

Lara Croft surveyed the damage. Extensive. Smoldering trees were strewn everywhere, as the ironic remains of the Garden City. Some were even still on fire, slowly burning away at the bare, straggly branches. 

Poor little – very little – Garden City. So many bodies were piled up now it seemed as if they had all been crammed in that little space. Which might jolly well have been the case. No resources were at hand – no water, no food, no weapons, an island – and the first to be cut off by the war. 

Singapore had fallen amongst the first of the great Asian nations. This was simply because there was nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. 

Orchard road had been the heart and soul of the little city, a long, broad avenue lined with designer shops and malls, always jammed with people, and the latter had held true when the American bomb had been dropped. It hadn't been nuclear but in this tiny zone had caused something of a crater with a diameter greater than the original road. Lara had only gotten there two days after the bombing on August the 1st but until today, many were still picking hopefully through the rubble for survivors – or remains.

Lara was wearing the bloodstained, dusty white uniforms of your typical emergency volunteer worker and fighting the urge to throw up, pass out, or perform any such phrasal verbs that would defy her purpose of being there, to say the least. Only a handful of others remained now, clearing away piles of glass and metal fruitlessly. 

Funny. There was another clump of workers on the other side of the road (which is no longer a road, she corrected herself automatically). Lara crossed, carefully avoiding the sharper pieces. They'd found a man. Alive. He was only the third _whole_ man today, alive or not.

Two were feverishly pushing aside mounds of rubble while three were carefully tugging him out of it all. It seemed unusually difficult. The man didn't seem that heavy. He was screaming incessantly now, in words no one seemed to be able to make out. Quickly Lara stooped down and dusted off some of the grease and dust on his lacerated, bleeding body. As a qualified medic she gingerly removed some of the glass stuck into him, blanching – most of it was deep, possibly fatal if not well treated immediately. 

Suddenly the man came free. His right leg was horribly mangled and bleeding, but his left leg wasn't even there. Between the blood and the blackish stump he was clutching a woman's head.

Lara had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming and to quell the fierce desire to run off and vomit. The woman's teeth were all missing and her mouth was practically gushing deep, rich blood. Her eyes were punctured, and all her hair had been burnt off.

Even then, she helped dig up his wife's headless corpse and three children, while the man himself screamed and flailed. He watched his eldest son die in front of him. One of the medics trying to remove a nasty steel splinter from his side fumbled when he squirmed.

One last agonized shriek – that was all it took to welcome Death. Perhaps you can find some sort of peace now, Lara thought sadly, as she watched two very brave men carry the family away with mounting looks of trepidation.

How could war be so cruel?

Especially here, mused Lara, shakily walking down the perilous stretch to where she'd parked the car she'd 'borrowed' – simply a quick jerking of the latch, a gentle shove, and a stretch to reach the floor pedal from the passenger's front seat had done the job.

My mum wants me in bed now. You'll see the next bit fairly soon, I hope. Don't bank on it – big nasty exams.


	5. Once loved Part IV

Author's note: Feedback from some of my pals – gory. Hmmm. They're happy I'm killing Stephanie Sun, though. I do hope I'm spelling her name right.

Notice the Apple of Discord shows up again. I should fix an error in my first or second chapter, where it says 'the original Talisman in Greece' or something like that. It should say 'the Apple in Greece'. I know the Apple thing sounds totally lame but those of you who are familiar with Greek mythology it should almost make sense. It'll be revealed properly later.

In the name of my favorite movie, Miss Congeniality, _world peace_!

I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT ANYONE OR ANYTHING, ESPECIALLY IN THIS CHAPTER. I DO NOT MEAN TO INSULT.

REMEMBER. VITALLY IN THIS CHAPTER, THERE SHALL BE NO INSULTING OR OFFENDING.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

It had just been eight days to the country's national day, and their local pop star, Stephanie Sun had been performing for free right there on Orchard Road for the sake of being something free in the country to commemorate.

Boom.

Something large and fiery seemed to strike all the tallest buildings at once – eleven in all. Within seconds, Orchard Road was just another crash site – just like the Mosques and Temples in the whole of Asia – and the whole of the world.

It was blatantly obvious that it was, above all, _religion_ being targeted, and that the bombing of Orchard Road had been pure malice. Hundreds on hundred of innocent people had been killed, and Sun hadn't been seen since.

It was certainly a first, decided Lara, getting into her 'car'. Christian terrorism.

Just two weeks ago Wayne Goman, President of America, had gone completely berserk and bombed the Taj Mahal in India and several large temples in China, not to mention some prominent religious heritage sites here and there that could never be replaced. Churches were suddenly, efficiently, the new air-raid shelters all over the world.

Lara hadn't come here to shelter, though. She was after the second half of the Apple of Discord. It was true she'd gotten back the first half already, the Talisman of Ares, and she'd tried to get rid of it.

Big mistake.

Talismans of Ares clearly did not enjoy being discarded. Six rounds of bullets had come back at her when the safety of her gun had 'mysteriously' snapped, when she could swear it had been working perfectly. Lara considered herself lucky to get hit by a piece of flying shrapnel. 

It was certain now that she would need the other blasted half too, which was already a threat in itself. Because even though now America wouldn't see much point in bombing down another temple or two, Asia would be bent on revenge. And that would naturally make America upset… again. Even if she could get the piece from Asia, it would take a miracle to bring peace to the earth again.

It was a vicious cycle.

She cast a sidelong glance at the scene out the window before pulling out of the lot. The one thing that stood out from the bland destruction was a grown man missing one leg, bent over the still form of a headless body, crying.

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Sorry this is so short. I myself was expecting something a little longer, but at least I managed to churn out this point. **NO INSULTING.** Hopefully I'll be able to write the next bit soon – don't count on it, exams. Anyway just as a preview, it'll be somewhere in a Grecian tomb, with a bunch of Greek gods and goddesses, traps, and yes, Alex West. At least I _hope_ so. ;  ) Thanks for all the support.


	6. Once loved Part V

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, I've been kind of stuck lately. This isn't too long a chapter, but… Oh well. Felt guilty at not updating, at any rate. So… here we forcibly go. No action here, next chapter please. I just noticed my mistake about the Henshingly/Richard Croft thing. For my benefit, can we leave it at Henshingly??? Thanks…

Finally, God _does_ exist, and there is only One God. This is fiction for a reason. All praise, power and glory be unto Him!

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The Illuminati were still pounding on the door. 

"Maybe I should repeat what I said, Lara. _Everyone_ wants to change the world. Think about it. Whatever you do in life is a subconscious effort of that. Animal activists want more animals. Doctors want more stinking people alive on this overcrowded planet. Jailbirds- well, jailbirds will be jailbirds.

"Think of this as normal, happy human behavior, Lara."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"I mean, look at _yourself_. Crawling around in the dirt digging up the past. Yes, I know that's fascinating at first. That, and the beauty of first youth…" He sighed. "But let me tell you, daughter dear," he continued, tone becoming more definite, face growing hard, "This particular subconscious effort… well, let's just say it's ineffective. Very."

"And why would that be?" The words slipped out of my mouth. 

"Like I said, you're trying to piece together yesterday. But whatever happens, Lara, yesterday will never return. Never." He spat his last words out vehemently. "Everything else jumps on the bandwagon. Everything else – _life_. People." He stopped suddenly, grimacing almost as if a fly had flown into his mouth and he was debating whether to swallow it or to spit it out.

He spit it out. "Even your mother, Lara."

It was like something tearing in me. A tall, beautiful woman with flawless ivory skin and long flowing dark hair, smiling confidently – someone whom I knew only by name, not memory – my _mother_. 

I'd never known her.

Henshingly hid something of a smirk. "Back to you, my darling. Why are we salvaging these faint traces of things that will never come back? Why?

"Thus, I began to dream, to dream of a whole new world… far better and more beautiful than the old one could have ever been. _My world_. And how? Power. _Power_, Lara, is the root of all… Illuminati." He laughed at his feeble attempt at humor. "And to have power, I needed… well, power is really something only a god would possess, Lara.

"And this is really where those pieces of yesterday come into play. I told you that people died moved on, don't they? You certainly did. But let me tell you something – a god doesn't. He 'lives' on in his cracked temples, 'dead' without the proper respect of his people – without them, he is nothing. Power doesn't take sides, though, and if, just if, one could believe in old gods _just_ to tap into that source of power… it'd work. Why should it not?

[I HOPE NO ONE IS CONFUSED AT THIS POINT. IF YOU ARE, DROP ME A REVIEW. I'LL TRY TO EXPLAIN EITHER VIA EMAIL OR IN MY NEXT POST.]

"I knew I would have to pretend to be dead, so everyone would just move on and I'd have the best kind of privacy while I accomplished my task. I'd still need a bunch of people running errands for me, of course. Some were useless… some of my agents were very effective, though, take Manfred Powell for instance. He led your first expedition, didn't he? With a certain Alex West?"

"He told me he was freelance," I said as neutrally as I possibly could, trying not to betray how I felt. He'd almost been like a father to me, not to mention mentor.

~*~ I PROMISE TO HAVE THE FINDING OF PIECE WITH LARA AND ALEX IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. I MIGHT BRING POWELL IN. ANY SUGGESTIONS? ~*~


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